


here together (what's your pleasure)

by blackkat



Series: Star Wars Smut [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Overstimulation, PWP, Praise Kink, Smut, Soft Domme Padmé, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “No,” Padmé says, breathless but full of iron. “Hands on the floor.”
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/CC-1010 | Fox
Series: Star Wars Smut [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675714
Comments: 13
Kudos: 418





	here together (what's your pleasure)

“No,” Padmé says, breathless but full of iron. “Hands on the floor.”

Fox groans, half in protest and half in appreciation, and drops his hands back to the thick carpet, digging his fingers in to try and marshal some self-control. It should be easy; the Guard, and commanders especially, are trained for torture, for the very worst situations, to always be able to hold themselves back—

But Alpha-17 never prepared anyone for Padmé Amidala’s mouth, Fox thinks, dazed. There's no _way_ he could have.

“Padmé,” he says, and it doesn’t matter that he’s begging, it doesn’t matter that his moan echoes through the wide room. Her lips are on his stomach, her hair a curtain pooling over his hips and trailing over his cock, and every delicate little kiss she presses against his skin is a tease like he’s never felt before.

She hums, light, and drags her mouth down an inch further, tongue flickering out to trace the edge of muscle before she lays another kiss in the same spot. Fox can't help but twitch, turning his head, but unlike in his tiny dark bunk, there's no place to hide, no way to avoid how she’s watching him from underneath her lashes, no opportunity to hide the flush in his face or the way he can't quite draw a breath.

Most of the time when they do this, it’s rushed, somewhere dark and out of sight, because they both have their duties and can't be seen as shirking them. Here on Naboo, though, the whole building is full of sunlight. Fox is entirely bare, stripped down and left vulnerable, and it makes every inch of skin feel hyper-aware, each touch electric. Padmé is still in her traveling gown, only the heavy headpiece pulled off and discarded, and the masses of cloth spread out in a lake of green and gold around them, heavy across Fox’s legs. The cloth is soft, just ratchets each touch higher, and Fox wants to turn over and curl up and drag Padmé down and stay here forever, all at once.

Padmé drags her mouth up, over skin she already kissed, draws a line up Fox’s chest to press a kiss to the curve of a pec. Fox starts to reach for her, gets his hand halfway up before he remembers himself and drops it, and Padmé casts him a sly smile, eminently pleased, and gently fits her mouth over a nipple. She sucks gently, rolling it with her tongue as her hands stroke up Fox’s side, and she hums. Fox whimpers, fists clenching as sparks swim behind his eyes, and he won't touch, wants the feeling of being pinned without ever being tied up, but he _needs_ her. He needs Padmé so desperately it feels like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin with the force of it.

“You’re so good for me,” Padmé murmurs, laying a kiss over his heart and then shifting to the other side of his chest. The brocade of her dress drags across his cock, so rough in comparison to the brush of her hair, and Fox cries out, head falling back, mouth open. He sucks in breaths, hard and leaking against his belly, and scrapes his nails across the floor. Padmé taking charge is everything he’s ever wanted and not gotten with other partners, but his muscles strain against the urge to disobey.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs, and Padmé closes her teeth ever so lightly over his nipple, then lets go, rising up. Fox jerks, shouts as her knee slides between his thigh, and she falls over him, hands braced beside his head as she leans down. The burn of her mouth across his throat makes Fox choke on a moan, and he wants to grab her, hold her mouth in place until she marks him, until she leaves a sign that his blacks won't hide, but—

Padmé’s lips close over skin, suck hard, roll flesh between her teeth, and Fox whimpers, straining up into her. Her delicate hands stroke his chest, washes of heat that curl through his nerves, and he groans, tips his head. Her hair falls over them both, long and straight and shining, and it’s so soft as it teases across his sides, his shoulders.

“What do you want, Fox?” Padmé asks gently, and her lips trace the underside of his jaw, the stubble there. Her tongue traces the desperate beat of his pulse, and then she lifts her head, watching him.

Fox can hardly even come up with the words. Her weight on top of him, covering him and pinning him down, is enough to shut off his brain, and the searing trails of heat across his skin, phantom traces of her kisses, make him burn with want. But she’s still watching, still waiting, and he thumps his head back against the floor and gasps out, “You, _you_ , just you.”

Padmé’s hands frame his face, holding him still, and she kisses him. Fox presses up into it, pathetically desperate, and he used to think he wanted his partners to mock him, to degrade him for wanting them, but Padmé is so _gentle_. She eases him through the kiss, slow and careful until he’s trembling, and then lifts her head and smiles at him.

“You’ve been so good, you can have whatever you want,” she says, stroking his hair, and Fox turns his face blindly into her hand.

“You,” he says again. “On—on me?”

Padmé kisses his mouth again, slow and lingering and loving, and Fox _aches_. “I can do that,” she says, and leans forward, hitching her voluminous skirts up just enough. Her hand closes over Fox’s cock, stroking lightly, and she sits back. Fox whimpers at the feel of her cunt, so incredibly wet and slick and _hot_ , as she sinks down on him, and he can't stop himself. He grabs her hips, just holding, and gasps out, “Padmé, _Padmé_ —”

“Shh,” Padmé soothes, breathless. “It’s all right, Fox. You can come.”

The words are like an electric shock, and Fox cries out. His hands lock around her hips as he bucks up, and Padmé rides the thrust, clenches down on him, and that’s enough. Fox comes with a groan, shaking through it, and loses himself to the drowning pleasure for a long, long minute.

When he comes to again, shaky and dazed, Padmé is still sitting on his cock, her knees tucked along his sides. Her hands stroke his chest lightly, and she leans forward, kisses his forehead, his chin, his mouth. “Good,” she says, and her fingers brush his cheek. “You're so good, Fox, so handsome. I love you.”

Fox closes his eyes, trying to breathe through the heat in his chest, and tugs at her wordlessly. Padmé comes willingly, folding down over him and wrapping her arms around him, and Fox clutches her close, still buried in her heat, still half-hard and wanting.

“Me too,” he breathes into her hair. “I—”

The words won't come. He has them on his tongue, just waiting to be spoken, but they won't leave his mouth. Fox hisses at himself in frustration, jerks his head—

Padmé kisses him, once, then again, again, again until Fox is too caught up in the taste of her to think of anything else. And when she lifts her head, she’s smiling.

“I know,” she says, and wraps her arms a little more tightly around him. “I know, Fox.”

Fox closes his eyes and breathes her in, trusting that she does.


End file.
